


die trying

by spyydr



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Gen, Guilt, Regret, sayaka deserved better so of course i'm going to write unnecessarily tragic one-shots about her, warning for descriptions of blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:20:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28353810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spyydr/pseuds/spyydr
Summary: Sayaka has a lot to think about while waiting for Leon.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	die trying

Sayaka grips the knife, her heart thudding against her ribs as she leans further back against the wall. The room is so quiet, so still, that it feels like the floor is shaking with each beat pounding out from inside her chest.

_Relax. This is nothing._

Her palms are sweaty. They always used to get sweaty before a show.

If she closes her eyes tight enough, she can almost imagine she’s backstage, leaning against a cool mirror instead of peeling wallpaper and clutching a microphone instead of a knife. She can hear the voices, too: the technicians muttering over their headsets, the stylists gossiping between brushstrokes, the other members warming up their voices. It's so close, if only she could just...

Enough. Sayaka forces herself to open her eyes, to look, to accept her reality. Imagination won’t get her anywhere. If she wants to go back to that world, she can’t just sit and wait for her dreams to come true. She’ll have to do what she’s always done. She’ll have to take it for herself.

A hot sensation pricks the corners of her eyes, and it takes a moment for Sayaka to realize that she’s crying. She’s only cried twice in her life. Once, when she went to her first idol concert, and again, when she made it as an idol herself. And now, bitter tears run down her face as she thinks about everything she’s worked so hard for and everything she stands to lose.

She never asked to be sent here. She never asked to play this stupid game, with the stupid homicidal bear and the stupid, insufferable classmates trapped in here with her.

Well, they’re not all bad. Some are nice, actually, maybe even fun to hang around with. They could have been friends in another life.

But of course, Sayaka has to be the villain. She has to be the monster. No matter how kind or funny the other students at Hope’s Peak may be, they aren’t her fellow idols. They aren’t her producers, or her managers, and they never will be.

None of that stops Sayaka from feeling guilty. She never wanted to use them like this. Still, it can't be helped. They don't mean anything to her.

A face surfaces at the top of her thoughts. It’s Makoto’s, with that dopey puppy dog look he always gets when Sayaka’s around. He believes everything so easily. Every lie, every facade; he’s swallowed them all. He’s a fool.

Somewhere, deep down, Sayaka knows Makoto would have been the easiest target. He’s the only one here with that combination of naivety and weakness. Everyone else is either too smart to fall for her lies or too physically powerful to risk going after. But she still can’t bring herself to kill him. People would miss him, probably, and there’s no meaning in removing one more good person from the world.

Leon Kuwata, on the other hand, is the kind of person she could stand to see less of. Sayaka has never really liked athletes, but at least people like Aoi and Sakura have moderately-sized egos. She hasn’t had a single conversation with Leon where they didn’t end up talking about him and only him. Of course she’d choose to target Leon over Makoto.

Although, if she succeeds, it doesn’t matter in the end. Everyone will die once the trial is over.

Sayaka tries not to think about that. She can barely stomach the idea of driving a knife into someone, much less watching everyone’s faces as she walks away, free as a bird, while they all die horrible, horrible deaths.

Then again, maybe they’ll figure it out. Maybe they’ll realize it’s her, and that will be it. No more concerts, no more spotlights. Just whatever happens after death. And Sayaka will die alone as a liar and a killer.

The knife begins slipping out of her hands. Her palms have become so slick with sweat that she can barely keep a solid grip anymore. Taking a deep breath, she sets the knife down carefully and wipes her hands on her skirt. What time is it? Ten? Eleven? She’s lost track, and she doesn’t dare leave her position by the door to go check.

This is the worst idea she’s ever had. Who does she think she is, trying to pull this off? She’s done a lot in order to pursue her dreams, but she never thought it would come to murder.

_Is this really worth it?_

She shakes her head. Of course it is. Of _course_ it is. Being an idol is the only thing she’s ever wanted, and if she’ll be damned if she lets a little killing game stop her.

The garish red carpet starts to burn into the corners of her vision. And before she knows it, she’s back in that room, staring at that screen with red light pouring from every direction. Her group members, collapsed on stage. The echo of laughter. And that grinning, evil bear, staring directly into the camera.

Sayaka can barely stand it. If she could just get out of here, she could fix everything and put it back the way it was.

A muffled sound comes from the hallway. Footsteps. There’s no more time to think, no more time for regrets or takebacks or what-ifs. She squeezes the knife in her fist, and remembers what she’s doing this for. She will get out of here. She will.

The door creaks open, and Sayaka lunges.

-

So this is how it ends.

Bleeding out, alone, in a cold, dirty shower. The tiles are still wet, although whether it’s water or blood Sayaka can’t be certain. The glass door hangs open, squeaking lamely on its hinges.

She can’t move her right hand. Every time she does, a sharp pain shoots up her shoulder, and her vision dims, blinking in and out.

Not that it matters anyways. It’ll all be dark soon enough.

Strangely, she finds the idea comforting. This is what she deserves for a lifetime of ambition, all the sacrifices she’s made, everyone she’s hurt in order to chase her dreams.

Maybe this way, Makoto will forgive her.

The guilt returns. It boils over in her chest, fresh and heavy. She’ll never get a chance to say sorry to anyone, much less the boy whose room she’s dying in right now. Even if he never finds out the way she lied to him, to everyone, she’s still hurt him more than he ever deserved.

At the very least, she’s ruining a perfectly good shower.

It’s kind of funny, honestly. All this blood, dripping down the drain. Surely it has to be good for something other than trickling out of her body.

Slowly, the idea comes to her. One final word. It won’t make everything right, but it’s worth a shot. She won’t go down without trying.

Sayaka raises her good hand, shaking violently from exhaustion and pain. And slowly, carefully, she dips her finger in a dark pool and begins to write.

_Leon._

Another joke in the comedy of Sayaka’s pathetic life. The hunter became the hunted. The victim became the killer. If she had the strength, she would laugh.

All she wanted was to be loved by the crowds. All she wanted was for people to shout her name. But as she drifts away, all she can think of is someone else’s.


End file.
